A Blank Rembrandt

Untitled

2009-06-30T16:38:00.003+08:00

Makati never runs out of cabs

2009-06-29T01:07:00.004+08:00

Yeap, hi, just got back from a little something with friends. I'll let you know that it's 1 in the morning and I just sneaked into our house. Munching on this leftover cinnamon roll I got from... where'd I get this again?

Still a bit woozy. I was worried I'd have to walk back home just like I did from the same place five years back, but a friend of mine, RJ, told me not to worry 'cause Makati wouldn't run out of taxis. What he did say proved to be right as we found ourselves this really long strip of taxis waiting for passengers to ride in this little taxi traffic... they were just like ants.

A generous guy who I didn't really know prior to today 10%-treated me to a movie. I was willing to pay for it myself but... yeah. Took his offer anyway!

What else...

I kinda have this weird fascination with ‘dead’ cigarettes. Toyed a bit with some and lit them up again.

See ya, Rembrandt. Still dizzy here, gotta look for some more things to eat.

Ramoan

Our lunch's getting cold

2009-06-26T10:05:00.006+08:00

Hey, Rembrandt. I've more time to talk to you again so here I am, yo.

If you had ears and a nose, you'd probably hear Joe's shuffling fingers on his keyboard and smell my curry for lunch. You'd probably hear a voice from where my cousin is, but really, that voice is probably coming from one of his friends or his girlfriend. If you could feel, then you'd probably feel as cold as all four of us are, all in blankets, jackets and little socks.

You'd probably cream me for telling you this if you could, but there's this little mug of hot water on this other page of yours right now. Hey, I said ‘probably’ five times.

Everything feels all right.

Ramon

Postscript to my little friend

2009-06-25T11:49:00.005+08:00

Hey, just so you know, I put copies of you up on the Internet. It's this physically non-existent place in which people can become anyone they wish to be and do neat and crazy stuff. You know how bad my penmanship is better than I do.

P.S.S. I want to admit to myself that I've nothing to offer until I keep on doing more things and keep on committing mistakes. That's why I'll start right now.

“i’m a pretty good writer, i can play music, i can take photographs and i don’t draw terribly. but i wish i were one of those people with incredible, outstanding talent.

i used to be one of those people and i took it for granted, and now i need to catch up to the person that i could be.”

And then some more

2009-06-25T01:14:00.001+08:00

The words ‘Memento mori’ are drawn on a page. It's the first thing that catches your eye, it lies alone on a page. The subsequent pages have been not-too-obviously removed.

Rembrandt, meet Alexander Bell

2009-06-25T01:09:00.001+08:00

Yo! What's up, old man? I haven't written on you in a long while. I've been busy doing nothing lately. I'm thinking we're pretty much the same!

Right? It'd be pretty freaky if you could talk back and stuff, though.

Rembrandt, remember these two things: polyaniline and foldable phone displays.

On ambitions

2009-06-25T00:35:00.008+08:00

Hi again. Let's see what I can start with... how'bout a little background history?

According to what my birth certificate says, I was born on October 27th of the year 1992. I was named after my two grandfathers, Luis Whitaker and Ramon de Leon. My name isn't original at all, I kinda wish I got a more grandiose or sexy name, but hell, you're just my damn notebook right now and not a legendary artist so I guess we're just even tonight.

As a really young kid, I could already retain memories pretty well, so I still know most things that happened back on the day I took my first steps. I still remember how I was left in an elevator when my parents separated—it wasn't pretty.

Two years after forming kiddie dreams such as becoming a dinosaur when I turn 23, I wanted to become a carpenter and an astronaut, maybe both. I thought carpenters weren't paid for a lot and becoming an astronaut was too unachievable a dream as only really smart kids can wear those suits to space. Then, 'cause my mom was a nurse once, came my discovery of a stethoscope lying in one of those little toolboxes mom used to have. I then wanted to be a doctor. Yup, I knew how to spell 'stethoscope' before I could spell 'ball'.

Then came coloring books. Those were awesome, I spent lots of time coloring pages with turtles and frogs. I liked frogs and turtles a lot. I wanted my house in the future to be painted in this turtle-y green shade with some accents of white. So upon realizing that I enjoyed making my little masterpieces, I asked mom if I colored them pages nicely and if my drawings are pretty OK. All she said was “continue doing that, you're doing a good job” or something like that. That day, I told her that I'm gonna be a painter when I grow up.

I guess I caught your interest already, Rembrandt. This kid wanted to be a painter! Hell yeah. I took those little summer lessons with watercolor and pastel stuff handed to us by our teachers. For our first assignment, we had to paint a realistic bowl of fruits. I remember spending too much time on coloring those grapes and trying to give them value by painting them over with white. I got scolded for doing so.

I'm guessing this is long enough for an entry here in your pages. 'Til next time!

Ramon

Seven minutes

2009-04-11T21:50:00.003+08:00

What are we to do with the time we have left?

Bird talk

2009-03-22T07:28:00.002+08:00

A couple of birds are tweeting quite loudly from a nearby tree. One of them sings to herself a little morning song while the others seem to tell her with their tight strings of chirps, “Shut up, missy, it's seven in the morning.”

They continue to talk in bird, but I don’t understand bird.

Much, really, has changed

2009-03-01T02:20:00.003+08:00

The lights of the city shone warmly in your eyes—that, I could most vividly recall. I took a pen and jot down:

“I miei scarpe pavoneggiarsi sulle gradino di ceramica con un ritmo dolce poco lento.

Y

uti

f”

What's this?

2008-02-02T03:01:00.001+08:00

Here's a little project I've been putting off for quite some time now. One night, I happened to be able to have some time to myself 'cause I couldn't sleep for hours, so I picked this journal out and started to write.

This is my little tribute to the great artist, Rembrandt van Rijn (1606~1669). I hope he's as interested as I am in what I'm doing in this little... joint effort. I've never seen any of his work in real life myself.

The journal's called 'A Blank Rembrandt' because at the time of its conception, the notebook didn't have any contents. You'll find that I'm talking to this notebook. What I'm doing is I'm rewriting most of the text I've written on this particular notebook in this online journal. The junk I write in it can get silly.

There are times that I can't understand even my own penmanship. That's when I give up and skip rewriting pages. I can try my best the next time I get some more free time and check the notebook I fondly call ‘Rembrandt’.

A bit of a trivia: The word ‘notebook’ was used 4 times in this thing and the person who gave me this notebook likes that number.

About

2008-02-02T03:00:00.009+08:00

Luis Whitaker
16, entering his senior year in La Salle Green Hills-High School, takes interest in art, music, logic, and feeling. He lives in the Philippines where there are only two locally-recognized temperatures: hot and very hot.